Greasy Spoon

[Kid]

"What's life if ya can't buy a man some food? 'Specially a member of Sacramento's finest." Is he referring to Tristan's position as an officer of the law? Or the fact that he's one of the People? Probably the latter. "We take care of our own, right?" He says it with that same smile, but the gleam in his eyes says his serious. Dead serious. For Kid, supporting his fellow Uratha: listening, advising (some might say educating), and fighting beside them is almost as important as following the demand of Black Wolf that No Sacred Place in his Territory be violated. Indeed, the connections and stories that bind the People figure as a kind of sacred place to his mind. A social place, of comfort and renewal.

He's wiping his plate with a piece of toast when the waitress arrives with Tristan's food. And a refill for their coffees. "Oh, that looks good. Almost makes me want another round." He burps. "Almost. Thank you ma'am." She leaves without a word. "She's sweet, ain't she?" Kid says to his new friend.

"You don't say? An even handed cop, huh? Well. That's a sight." He's joking around, though there may be a story there... "And a spiritually minded one to boot? Well, we could use more of you 'round these parts." Again, a clever bit of double speak. Right now, they're three Cahaliths and one Rahu; two Meninna, a Farsil Luhal, and a Suthar Anzuth. Tristan makes a welcome addition, all the way around the bend.

"So you, uh, been on the job for a while?" He snickers, being one of the People is a full-time gig indeed. More coffee, down the hatch. And then he pulls out a pouch of tobacco and begins rolling up smokes. He's gonna need about ten when he's back outside.

[Tristan Hardt]

"Right." he agrees. His tone somewhat flat. Still getting a feel for what the kid is about. He seems to mean what he says. Another hash mark on the 'pro' column.

Tristan grunts in agreement. The food does look good. And he's hungrier now than when he came in. He grabs a piece of bacon, folds it in three, and pops the whole thing in his mouth. Chewing with a satisfied look on his face. "Her? Sure." he says, glancing after the waitress. Lord knows Tristan can be hard to deal with. On the best of days.

A nod is all he offers to the next. Taking it all in is more important than slowing Kid's roll. The more he talks? The more Tristan has to work with. He takes another swig of coffee before summarily salting and peppering his eggs.

"About two decades." In truth, the 'job' had started for him around the same time as his job. And he'd been greener than green back then. Tristan watches Kid roll the smokes. He gives him a smirk as he dissects the eggs, letting the yolks run out into a golden mess.

"Cigs, huh? Guess rolling your own is better than store-bought. Cigar man, myself. Little more girth to them." Great. He'd said it. Another tie in to the sausage-man bit. They'd have a field day at the station with that one.

[Kid]

Kid looks up from his busy work, his fingers still rolling butts while he talks.

"Two decades, huh? You got me beat." That lop-sided grin again, "And you said you come up from Elk Grove? What got you movin'?" He's genuinely curious.

"Don't get me wrong, I know what it's like, to get restless. I been all over. Moving's all I seem to do. Until recently, at least. Though I never made it down Elk Grove way."

He nods a whole-hearted affirmation. "Oh hell yes. Can't barely breath 'less it's smoke. Bad habit, I know. But I got lots o'those." He arranges the five rollies he's completed side-by-side on the table and gets to work on the next one.

"Not too worried about cancer, though." A wink. "Cigars? Well, they're alright. But I like to feel it in my lungs." If the thickness comment makes an impression, it doesn't show.

"What d'you think of the chow? Good right?"

[Tristan Hardt]

"Promotion. Long overdue, if you ask me." he says, making short work of his prey breakfast. He manages to scoop almost an entire egg's worth of mess onto a piece of toast, and he cradles it like a taco.

"Can't say I ever got the wander-lust., actually. Feels weird leaving after so long. But... it was time to go." He rubs his mouth with the back of his wrist and continues devouring. It's a small miracle he's able to chew and swallow so much and still manage to get words out in between. "You ever wish you had settled down in one place?"

Tristan lets out what could pass for an amused snort. "Yeah? I just like the taste. Cigars take longer, you know? Becomes kind of like a pastime."

True to form, Tristan finishes off the rest of his grub with his last piece of toast. Nothing is left on his plate except an orange-yellow semi-circle smudge. "Yeah, I'd say so. You want to take this conversation outside? I could use a smoke now that we're talkin about it."

[Kid]

"Congrats," Kid says with a bob of his head, seemingly happy for this wolf he's just met.

"Well, I didn't have the urge. To settle down. 'Til now. Reckon I feel as weird about it as you do finally pulling up stakes, you know? But it's been good. Met good People." He packs up the ten rollies he's just made and pulls out some cash, leafing out bills and leaving them under his empty coffee mug. He's not loaded, but the meals here are dirt cheap.

"Sounds good," Kid says. Stands, shoulders his bag, nods to the waitress who does a good job of not noticing, before leading Tristan outside.

He lights a cigarette, offers one to his new friend. Glances up and down the street, no one about.

"So, what's it like--being a cop?"

[Tristan Hardt]

"Yeah. Uh, thanks." True, the guy had just bought him a breakfast, but it still feels awkward getting praise from a stranger. Or maybe its just been that long since he's run into a new wolf. Maybe this is normal?

"That so? Wouldn't mind meeting these People of yours." He'd get to asking for names later: seems rude at this point.

Tristan shrugs and accepts the cig, making the universal sign for 'can I borrow your lighter'. It would have to do.

"Where to start? I mean, I guess you get to see shit you wouldn't on a normal day. Not always a blessing, that. And... having a badge helps. Access to places you'd normally be barred from. People, for the most part, tending to cooperate. It makes... 'things' easier. If you catch my drift." Having a smoke outside a restaurant is a far cry from privacy, even without prying eyes and ears. But hopefully Kid would catch on to his meaning: the badge opens doors. In different ways than changing forms or stepping into the Shadow.

"What's it like being a..." The uniformed man trails off a bit. He plugs the silence with a drag from the cigarette. Probably should have asked Kid's profession before starting that one.

[Kid]

"Oh, you'll meet 'em. Gotta sniff some ass, yeah?" he winks and flicks the flame to life, leaning in to light Tristan's butt before pocketing the Bic with one smooth movement.

He smokes silently, expansively, listening to this new Wolf explain his job.

"I catch it all right. Sounds like it does the trick. Guess I was wonderin' though, how you deal with...conflicts of interest, you know?" After all, human laws and the Oath are often at odds.

"Who me? Ain't much of nothin' really. Just a Kid. 'Bout the only thing close to a job I've had is travelin', listenin' to stories, People's stories, learning 'em. It's damn near full time, actually." He pauses, turning something over in his mind, blows a massive cloud of smoke. "If you're askin' what I do for money? Well, I get by. Got some angles, mostly...street level, if you catch my drift and pardon me, officer." Did he just admit to being a petty criminal? Blue eyes dance merrily behind a screen of smoke.

[Tristan Hardt]

The corner of Tristan's mouth turns up in a halfhearted smile. Though as to whether his smile is over confirming his rendezvous with the other Uratha or Kid's colorful vernacular... Shit, probably a little of both. As Kid brings the lighter in, Tristan get the cigarette going. Kid has a way about him, that's for sure. Tristan's smile departs almost as quickly as it showed up - if you can ever claim it did - but the Half Moon is clearly at ease around him.

He glances down the road, just to be sure, before answering. "I'm sure as shit not a dirty cop. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But my promotion took a long time for good reason. All the little hiccups, the absences, and everything else? They get people asking questions. I've been investigated for foul play more times than I can count, you see. Half the force wants to believe I'm on someone else's payroll. I say let them. They'll never prove it because there is no exchange. No third party. No payroll. So these 'conflicts'?" He takes another drag before exhaling in satisfaction. "Deal with themselves."

The last bit elicits a grunt. "Don't get caught. If I'm going to run with you and your friends, I'll have your back. But my influence only extends so far. And if I gotta bring you in on a misdemeanor to 'save face'... don't hold it against me." Tristan eyes Kid, steely eyed, for just a moment before softening. "My other duties matter more than my job, but I need one to do the other. It's how I operate."

[Kid]

"Oh not dirty. Maybe a little furry, but not dirty." Kid chuckles, smoking escaping his mouth when he does so.

"Just curious, though: like, what do you do when you come across someone who's being, well..." his voice drops, "Ridden? In a bad way, right? A no-coming-back way. I mean they're still a card carrying member of society. Got a social security number and all. Hell, probably pay their taxes. And nobody knows about their real deal 'cept you, and some other People. And you gotta, you know..." again, he glances around, making sure the street is still deserted, "take care of 'em. How's that square with the whole serve and protect thing?" He knows it's a hard question. But Kid doesn't shy away from asking those. That's how you get the best stories.

"Me? Caught? Not likely." Another chuckle. He drops his cigarette, grinding it out under his shoe, and immediately lights another. "Oh don't get me wrong, I've crossed the thin blue line before. Took a pinch or two. But nothin' ever stuck." He picks some loose tobacco from between his teeth. "Guess I'm just too charming." Flicks the tobacco with a goofy grin. "I ain't gonna blow up your spot, don't worry. And I won't hold it against you if you just have to blow up mine...Not really, anyway. You might get a little bit of shit, but nothing too heavy." He winks.

"Besides, I figure we want you on the job just as much as you want to stay that way. It's a good thing all around."

[Tristan Hardt]

"Then they go away." he deadpans. "Like I said... my 'other' duties are more important than my job. I'm not saying I don't like keeping the peace. Far as I'm concerned, it's why I signed up in the first place. But ever since I was, let's say, educated? I've kept the peace in a different way. By a different code." His own cigarette burns down close to the filter, and he summarily extinguishes it. "It's not so different from joining the force. See, everyone's got their own moral compass. Their own values. Becoming a cop, you gotta conform your values to align with your duties. You might not change as a person, but you recognize the necessity of the code you've been taught. How to adhere to it. And, I guess, I've had to do this twice now." Once for becoming a cop; once for assuming his role as a Bone Shadow.

Tristan doesn't doubt Kid on his word. Though the reveal sheds a new light on the man. Kid isn't just a likable guy; he's smooth. Something Tristan should have picked up on during their exchange inside the Diner. It brings a thoughtful frown to his face.

"Glad we see eye to eye on that." he says, hoping they really do. "There's a lot of give and take. Big picture over immediate gratification." He pauses to pull back his sleeve and peer at his watch. Another frown. "I should get going, Kid." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Thumbs through a small stack of business cards and offers one to Kid. "Here. So you can contact me if you need me. I should get in touch with you and your friends. Soon."